Flood of Insight
by ardavenport
Summary: A simple, diplomatic mission is interrupted by catastrophe for Qui-Gon and a very young Obi-Wan.
1. Chapter 1

**Flood of Insight**

by ardavenport

**Note:** This story assumes that Obi-Wan Kenobi apprenticed to Qui-Gon Jinn at the age of 8 or 9, a version of EU/AU attributed to a Lucas interview that I don't have the reference for. Fair warning: the pacing is completely backwards, story-telling-wise. It starts with action and it slows down throughout to contemplation, because that's just the kind of story it is.

** part 1**

The large, decorated doors to the conference room suddenly parted.

"That boy of yours has gone insane!" Amis Bel, the villa security chief, a large, muscular man with short, bright orange hair, advanced on the table of unhappy conferees. "He's taken that laser sword of his and he's chasing everyone up the hill!"

_What?_

Qui-Gon stared at the completely inexplicable interruption before hastily getting out of his chair and going to the large meeting room's balcony.

Far down below, in the picture-perfect garden valley, they heard the faint sounds of distress rising from the running crowds below. A tiny, short line of blue chased them up winding paths. It jumped from one path to another and another, back and forth, swiping at any stragglers. A few got away, dodged to the side to escape, but most of them simply fled straight away up the steep paths. They sometimes stumbled over each other, but the always got up to flee to the safety of the villas high above.

Fascinated, they all stared down at the spectacle. _He's herding them_, Qui-Gon thought.

An insight from some un-speaking part the Force interpreted what he was seeing.

_He's getting them to higher ground._

Then he felt it. An enormous disturbance in the Force, rising up from the ground, booming and huge. Alarmed, Qui-Gon looked up at the natural dam in the canyon wall, at the artfully placed waterfalls that spilled out from the thickly overgrown barrier that wouldn't hold back the lake water beyond it.

_Of course, if the planetary government couldn't manage the satellite communications properly, then their seismic monitors could easily be defective as well._

Qui-Gon rapidly looked from side to side at the cliff-side building they were in with its flying buttresses and hanging balconies. It was locally built; it should hold.

But was he sure?

"Out!"

Qui-Gon own lightsaber flew from his belt into his hand and activated. The conferees jumped, hastily backing up into the room again and away from the bright green blade.

"Go! Now!" He destroyed a chair for emphasis. Some of the negotiators needed no further prompting and fled, but the orange-haired security chief and a few others objected.

"There's a ground quake coming. Get out of the building! NOW!" His saber hummed louder as he destroyed another chair and hacked off a chunk of table. They ran.

Out the huge double door, Qui-Gon pelted after them down the lavishly decorated halls. The city was built on a steep hillside. If there were landslides, it was possible that there would be no safe place, but Qui-Gon was still sure that outside was better than inside. Others had taken up the call and more people were running to the exits.

Qui-Gon had just burst outside into the sunny stone courtyard when it started. He deactivated his saber and clipped it to his belt as he ran away from the building. There were hoots and screams and he saw someone fall out of a window.

The ground seemed to reach up and smack Qui-Gon with a wall of paving stones. He actually saw the ground heaving in waves; there was nothing to hang on to. Decorative facades fell off the sides of buildings and more voices rose in terror. A huge obelisk in the courtyard tilted and Qui-Gon reached out with the Force to stop it, but the ground suddenly surged upward and slammed into it anyway. Thankfully no one was under it. A siren started.

Then the heaving slowed and lessened to shaking. Then to trembling and rumbling. And then it stopped.

Qui-Gon was on his back, staring up at the planet's beautiful, blue, cloudless sky. It had been a lovely day. A flying creature screeched and cawed from above. The ground quake had been strikingly similar to the wild accelerations of a spacecraft in crisis, but in such confined places there were walls and compartments to cling to, things to do to survive. In the open and planet-side, there was no escape. Someone was crying nearby.

Qui-Gon shook his head. Surprised that he'd been so stunned, he quickly got to his feet. None of the buildings around the courtyard had fallen, though there was damage. The fear and shock from the people and creatures around him rippled through the Force; he breathed it in and let it pass through him. He was bruised, but they were only minor injuries compared to the hurts that he sensed around him. The siren was still blaring.

A man wept by a large uprooted tree behind him.

"Are you hurt?" Qui-Gon asked. He shook his head and then pointed. There was a body under the trunk of the tree. Shrouded in prickly, dark green leaves, a pool of blue blood spread beneath it. There clearly wasn't anything that could be done.

Amis Bel ran into the open, his loud voice yelling commands into a comlink. Another, shorter, orange-haired man yelled into another comlink. He was the manager of the villa where the conference was being held in, and he was quite obviously related his security chief, but Qui-Gon didn't know his name. The manager yelled orders at people. The ones wearing green vests were his staff and they scurried to comply, to check out other parts of the grounds, look for people, get more comlinks and speeders. The emergency response was clearly underway.

_Obi-Wan._

Qui-Gon fled the villa courtyard, out through the high, arched gate and through the gardens to the paths that led down to the valley. At first the path was clear, but then panicked people came streaming toward him and going the other way. He jumped up onto a high, stone fence and ran along the top of it to avoid them. He leapt up to the top of the square, flat end pillar and looked down.

A torrent of water had already filled the valley. An ugly, brown cascade roared below, filled with broken trees, wreckage, debris and people. The path that he'd last seen Obi-Wan on was already completely covered by the torrent which was rising rapidly, chasing terrified beings up the pathways.

A sudden chill traveled down Qui-Gon's body, the chill of water, closing in, a lack of air...

_Obi-Wan!_

Qui-Gon leapt off of his perch, over the heads of fleeing people and droids. He ran along the side of the path, Force-leaping over obstacles when he had to, not knowing which way it led him, only that the Force guided him down toward his Padawan.

"Help!"

Qui-Gon saw the man, a younger human with yellow hair and wearing sopping aqua robes, caught in the branches in a gnarled tree that swayed in the torrent. Two others clung to his legs. Without hesitating, Qui-Gon took out his cable launcher and aimed for the thickest branch by the man. He would have to save the person before him, the one he knew he could save, before going for Obi-Wan.

The cable hook caught on a branch, wrapping around it in a firm hold. Even before Qui-Gon yelled to him, the man immediately reached for it. The two others followed, a skinny, dark, blue-hued being with a prominent horn sweeping back from a high brow and a shorter being with red, writhing, head-tentacles. Qui-Gon wrapped his end around a prominent rock plinth and held it steady. The yellow-haired man's robes caught on the tree and he furiously ripped them from him, revealing white and orange striped body underwear. The line sagged under his weight so that he hung in the water up to his hips. His face determined, the man advanced upward toward Qui-Gon. The others, just as determined, joined him on the line.

Barely halfway, the water had risen to the man's chest, but he kept a firm grip on the line though Qui-Gon could see that his palms were red and blistering from supporting his weight and fighting the pull of the current. The one with the head-tentacles yelled often at the slower blue being ahead on the line, but Qui-Gon couldn't tell if it was encouragement or abuse, or both through the roar of the water.

The man pulled himself up and Qui-Gon could see that his feet had touched something solid. He moved faster, climbing upward on the line and the others followed. Qui-Gon loosened his grip on the line when the three dragged themselves through shallow water up onto a trail. The man sprawled on the ground gasping, the blue being crouched next to him. The shorter being slapped them into action, taking the hand of each and dragging them upward on the path, but not before giving a clenched fisted, open-mouthed gesture of gratitude up to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon cut the line from his cable launcher just as the tree gave in to the current, toppled and was swept away. He ran again, his mind focused once again on following his bond to his young Padawan.

The Jedi leaped up, over a path of panicked people, onto a prominent, flower-draped rock. He scanned the devastation around him. The raging dam break had destroyed everything and the water still rose, consuming more of the once picturesque gardens. Everything below had been drowned, pounded into heavy, hungry brown water that surged with debris, snapped trees, wrecked buildings and sometimes lifeless bodies.

Qui-Gon spotted a familiar, small form on an open, isolated patch of gravel.

"Obi-Wan!" Two leaps brought him to the a flat piece of ground near the still body. He sensed life, but distress as well.

"Obi-Wan." He turned him over. The boy's frightened eyes looked up at him, he opened his mouth to speak, but coughed violently instead. Qui-Gon sat him up, supporting his narrow shoulders with his arm, the wide fabric of his robe sleeve covering the ten-year old's back. His clothes were rapidly drying, but he was still damp and chilled. He pulled the boy close to him while the coughing fit continued.

"Ma...Mas..."

"Don't speak," he said gently. He rubbed Obi-Wan's arm. The coughing stilled; the boy relaxed as the Force from his Master warmed his body. Qui-Gon sensed no serious pain from him. Though half-drowned and bruised, his tunic and pants torn in places, his injuries seemed modest. He was also well above the raging water below, with no hint to how he'd gotten there. All around them people yelled, some of them screamed. Qui-Gon looked up to see someone flailing in the raging, brown water below, helplessly carried away.

A wave of assorted rescuers suddenly buzzed overhead and descended toward the raging waters. Villa staff, security people, guests of varying species rode speeders and speeder bikes of all sizes and shapes.. Even a few lifter crews piloted their flat, floating platforms down the steep, uneven hills toward the flood. The water's rise had slowed as it spread out over a larger area, but it was still rising higher, still flowing fast, it's roar downing out everything else except the sounds of trees snapping and unidentified things crashing into buildings, breaking them down with each impact.

The newly arrived rescuers soared over the waters and lighted on the paths and immediately picked up people to take them higher.

Qui-Gon lifted his Padawan into his arms as even more rescuers whizzed overhead. Obi-Wan squirmed a bit and coughed before settling down. His head lay next to Qui-Gon's chest, his eyes closed. His Master turned, ran up the slope and using the Force, leap from stone to statue to wall, climbing upward. Obi-Wan huddled closer to him, his small hand clutching the fabric of Qui-Gon's tunic.

He finally reached the lower level of the villa. Hopping down from a carved stone banister, Qui-Gon turned back to look at the spreading disaster. Dozens of speeders and antigravs skimmed over the waters below, coming and going, diving to rescue people still clinging to trees and poles, chasing after others being swept downstream. There had been no warning, other than the insight of the young apprentice he now carried.

** End Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**Flood of Insight**

by ardavenport

** part 2**

Qui-Gon left the balcony, climbing a curved stairway up to a small plaza where shocked crowds gathered. Standing on a bench, a villa attendant in a stained, light blue tunic and green vest gestured and yelled for people to go toward the landing field. Qui-Gon joined the crowd, climbing more stairs, walking past toppled small buildings; groups of people and droids were already searching them for survivors.

In his arms, Obi-Wan remained as still as possible. He wheezed, but otherwise did not seem to have any other breathing difficulties. Qui-Gon sensed a growing nausea in his apprentice. The motion of his ascent had jarred him badly and he was fighting for control. Qui-Gon calmed him through their shared connection with the Force. Obi-Wan released his grip on his tunic and pressed his hand to his chest in gratitude.

Built on a natural plateau, people were massing there on the open duracrete field used for speeders, transports and spacecraft. The crowd slowed. Up ahead at an entrance, a line of three more attendants directed people toward different area as they approach. Qui-Gon immediately noticed that all the large spaceships had been moved to the far end of the field, or taken away entirely. As large an area as possible had been cleared for the survivors' use.

When he finally reached them one of them pointed him toward an open area near a row of gold, gilded sky skimmers. Qui-Gon strode toward the marked off area, passing two, limping Gran and two other people carrying a third.

A growing crowd of wounded looked for help within the invisible refuge of the markers. A loader zoomed up, dumped crates next to a growing pile materials and sped off. Two people were opening some of them and another was setting up cots which were immediately taken over by the people waiting for them. People carrying and supporting wounded comrades wandered about asking others what to do, where to get help while others sat miserably in place on the duracrete.

Qui-Gon scanned the area and spotted what looked like a medical droid amidst a milling crowd. He went toward it, carefully avoiding the wounded. A green-painted sentry droid stopped him, ten paces from the medical droid.

"Halt," it's loud electronic voice commanded, it's metal hand held out to block his way. Qui-Gon looked down at the machine with disdain. He could have cut down the droid with his lightsaber in seconds, but the droid only told him to join the line and its weapon stayed holstered.

Qui-Gon looked over the sentry and saw that there were only two medical droids, each one was attended by multi-armed servitors with a flat-lifter of supplies and two more sentries. Qui-Gon moved away to join the back of the line. Much as he hated waiting, he could not push Obi-Wan forward before others who needed help just as badly or more, and he could not deny the necessity of using the sentries to prevent desperate people from taking the medical droids for their own reasons. He joined the crowd as just another refugee.

In his arms, Obi-Wan started to cough again. He pressed his fist of his mouth, trying to stop it and it subsided, but his wheezing got louder. Qui-Gon stood taller than most of the beings ahead of him and he saw speeder arrive with another medical droid, servitor, six more sentries and supplies. While some people in front complained about the interruption, the droids briefly beeped and whirred at each other and repositioned themselves. One now evaluated everyone first and sent them to either one or the other two, depending on what their injury was. A sentry escorted away people with minor injuries, sometimes with angry words spoken. The line moved much faster than it had been.

When Qui-Gon was finally able to present Obi-Wan to the first droid, it scanned him quickly, listened to his breathing and asked Qui-Gon if he'd lost consciousness. Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan shook his head and coughed. The medical droid pointed Qui-Gon toward one of the other two. Qui-Gon carried his Padawan to a portable medical table next to the droid. This one also passed a scanner over him. It bleeped and clicked at the servitor, which produced a box from which the medical droid's slender metal hands plucked out a mask connected to a yellow cannister, several injectors and more tubes attached to a clear flimsi-plast bag..

"He has taken water in his lungs," the droid said to Qui-Gon. The droid administered immunity boosters to help Obi-Wan fight off any local microbes in the water that he had breathed in and swallowed. Next came medicine for his lungs, to accelerate the absorption of the fluid and replace the surfactant washed away by the water. One medicine was an inhalant; the droid put the mask over Obi-Wan's face, holding it in place with an elastic strap behind his head. The mask attached to a long tube that snaked down to a small cannister that the droid clipped to Obi-Wan's belt. The droid gave Qui-Gon instructions about what to do if there were any problems and what they might be. Obi-Wan unhappily watched, his eyes going back and forth between the droid and his Master.

Qui-Gon did not question the treatment; the droid obviously was well programmed and it delivered the fastest, most efficient treatment available. As soon as the droid was finished, Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan form the table, the canister lay tucked in between them. Another person right behind him, helped a new casualty onto the table as soon as it was empty.

More cots had been set up and Qui-Gon picked an empty one and lay Obi-Wan down on it. The droid had also administered a sedative and Obi-Wan was quite lethargic as Qui-Gon adjusted the cot to a sitting position so it would be easier for him to breathe. He checked the indicator on the cannister attached to Obi-Wan's belt; it glowed mostly blue with a small slice of green on the edge; when it had gone all green, it would signal for the mask to be taken off.

Obi-Wan wearily looked up at him, his hands moving at his side. Qui-Gon laid his hand on his head.

"Rest," he told him gently, but Obi-Wan seemed determined to communicate something to him. His hand moved over his wide, brown belt, touching the place where his lightsaber should have been.

"Ah." Qui-Gon understood. Obi-Wan had lost his lightsaber in the flood. Obi-Wan was too young yet, to build his own lightsaber. It had only been a training lightsaber from the Temple, but Padawans were still taught to treat them with reverence in preparation for the day when they would make their own.

The older Jedi looked down at his pupil's apologetic blue-gray eyes. "We shall get another one, later." He stoked the boy's head, encouraging him to relax. "You put the one you had to good use. Your insight serves you well. I am very proud of you." Obi-Wan's eyes left his to look at the rescue scene around them. There were hundreds of beings and droids gathered on the landing field around them.

"You could not have done more for them, Obi-Wan. Rest." This time he touched the boy's mind through the Force. He was so tired already that he didn't even notice the influence. His eyelids drooped and then closed.

There was a folded, dark green blanket at the end of the cot and Qui-Gon took it and covered his sleeping Padawan with it. He still wheezed a little, but his breathing sounded much better.

Qui-Gon straightened, looking down at the sleeping child. He sighed. Obi-Wan was indeed still a child, too young to send on any serious missions, but sitting at a negotiating table while unpleasant people hurled insults at each other was not supposed to have been a difficult mission. The participants of these negotiations not only disagreed with each other, they actively, personally hated each other, too, and neither side had hesitated to shower their ill-will on Qui-Gon as the Republic's neutral observer. Even Otnox, the Senate negotiator and a tough, seasoned politician who had arrived with Qui-Gon, had been surprised by their venom.

Qui-Gon sighed, taking out his comlink. He needed to contact the other negotiators, determine their status, and report his situation back to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

There was no place to sit, so he sat on the ground next to Obi-Wan's cot. Injured people lay on the cots around them, behind them, in the new row being set up in front of them. A corpulent, green Twi'lek woman lay on the cot to the right of them, her pink scarf lay across the top of her head, shading her brow, her fleshy lekku hung down from her head on either side of the cot. An older man with thick black hair and a shredded shirt lay in the cot to their left.

Qui-Gon first tried Otnox. He got a null signal. Otnox's com could be destroyed, or simply turned off, or it could require a boost from the local com net, which was probably down. There was no way to tell which. He got the same null signal when he tried contacting any of the other conferees. He doubted that any of the negotiators had been killed; he'd chased them out of the building before the quake had struck, and none of the villa buildings had appeared to be seriously damaged anyway.

Qui-Gon tried the emergency channels; they were the same on all Republic worlds and all Jedi comlinks were tunable to them. He found quite a lot of chatter and skipped over the active ones of rescuer still snatching people up out of the flood waters. He asked for Amis Bel when he recognized a security call sign.

"Jinn?" Amis Bel, the villa security chief, answered.

"Yes–"

"Are you hurt, stranded, or buried under anything?"

"No, but I need to contact–"

"You don't _need_ to contact anyone right now. I don't have time for any of you conference people demanding things. Now get off this channel!"

Qui-Gon's comlink emitted a loud, discordant squeal and he hastily shut it off. He stared at the device a moment, as if it had personally insulted him before he put it away. The negotiations and reporting back to Curoscant were clearly low priorities at the moment.

Qui-Gon scanned the crowd. He didn't see Otnox's green, leathery head anywhere, but he was short and could easily be hidden in the crowd. Qui-Gon was quite sure that Otnox had gotten out of the building before the quake. For a bureaucrat who apparently took as little exercise as possible, he had run remarkably quickly ahead of Qui-Gon's lightsaber.

Qui-Gon recognized some of the security people and staff from the villa, but saw none of the other negotiators. There was no point in searching for them. The authorities seemed to be herding everyone toward the landing field, and he had a clear, view of where most of them had to pass. His best option was to wait and watch for them.

He touched the very short Padawan's braid behind Obi-Wan's ear. He peacefully slept, though Qui-Gon sensed a slight unconscious answer to his presence. All around them was anguish, grief and the after effects of terror swirling about in the currents of the Force. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, clearing his mind, but he sensed nothing more and no warnings of any future quakes. Insights like that, for random planetary events, were difficult to interpret. Obi-Wan may not have even realized what the Force warned him about, but he had clearly listened to it.

A group of speeders landed at the edge of the casualty area, unloaded a group of bedraggled victims and took off immediately, heading back toward the flood. The operation around him looked increasingly more organized. Qui-Gon periodically tried to reach the other negotiators on his comlink with no success. He stayed away from the emergency channels.

A hoot of joy caught Qui-Gon's attention and a man ran past them to a cot further down their row to a small child. Qui-Gon heard a high-pitched "Papa!" in return and the man fell to his knees beside his son.

Qui-Gon's hand touched Obi-Wan's arm again. Many of the injured were accompanied by friends, but many more were by themselves, abandoned by the disaster, alone and waiting for recognition. Qui-Gon watched a steady stream of people walking up and down the rows of cots, their eyes searching, quickly passing over him and Obi-Wan in their quest for a familiar and living face.

Another person walked down their row and stopped at Obi-Wan's cot. Qui-Gon looked up at the tall, muscular woman with stripes of pale hair on her skull. She wore a sleeveless bronze-colored body suit with a brass belt worn low on her hips. Her hands clasp before her, her violet eyes fixed on Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon drew her attention with an inquiring look.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what happened to him. I went back to the clearing and he was gone. I was worried he might have wandered off, gotten caught up in the water again." She stepped forward, her voice was deep and sorrowful. Qui-Gon stood.

"I brought him here. He is my apprentice," Qui-Gon told her.

"You're the Jedi negotiator, with that big conference thing up on the hill?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn," he introduced himself. "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi." He gestured toward the cot. She shrugged her shoulders, not really hearing the names.

"Bek," she told him without any further explanation. She moved as she spoke, nervously shifting her balance as she continued. "I saw him with his light sword, chasing everyone. I didn't know what was going on and so I went after him. Then the quake hit and the water started coming up so fast." Her words came out quickly, like the flood she described. "And my friends were still back at the house behind me and it was already covered up..." She paused, clearly having difficulty with the memory. She held out her hand to Qui-Gon, holding out a long, black and silver device with a mouthpiece in the middle. "He gave this to me," she finished. Qui-Gon took accepted it.

It was Obi-Wan's aqua-breather.

"I got some of them out; I'm not sure about the others." She sadly lowered her eyes. Qui-Gon sensed that she already knew that they were dead, but was hoping otherwise.

"You pulled Obi-Wan from the water?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, looking back up at him, her violet eyes earnest. She was as tall as he was, but her head was bowed, her posture worn down with from the panic and the anticipation of grief. "He tried to help. He strung a line down to us, but he was too small for the current and he went under. I took him up high, but I had to go back for the others," she apologized, looking past Qui-Gon to the sleeping Padawan behind him.

"He will be fine," Qui-Gon assured her.

She ducked her head in an improvised bow, obviously not accustomed to the gesture. Qui-Gon smoothly inclined his head in response.

"You have my gratitude," he told her. She fidgeted a moment, backing up.

"My friends have probably gotten their turn with the droids. I have to go." She averted her eyes, turned away before she'd even stopped speaking and hurried away. Qui-Gon watched her go. Then he turned and looked down at the boy in the cot.

He bent down, touching the back of his hand to his cheek, reassuring himself of Obi-Wan's living presence. Even deeply asleep, Obi-Wan stirred a little in recognition of the physical contact with him through their bond. Qui-Gon resumed his seat on the ground, sitting cross-legged next to the cot.

Qui-Gon supposed that it was foolish and rash of Obi-Wan to get so involved in the rescue; he could have easily been drowned, and almost was. He did endanger himself, but he had selflessly given another person, someone larger, and more capable, the tool they needed to save others, even at great risk to himself. Qui-Gon Jinn could not imagine feeling more proud of his Padawan at that moment.

Qui-Gon sat there, watching the activity around him. A villa staff member walked up and down the rows of cots offering refreshments. Qui-Gon accepted a bottle of flavored water from him but declined anything else. He removed the cap and drank deeply. Then he put the bottle down on the ground next to him and continued to watch the people around him.

It felt odd to him, not to be doing anything in a crisis. But there were already many people doing things, acting in teams that he was unfamiliar with. The landing field was slowly transforming into an organized camp with people in blue tunics and green vests taking charge. From the size of the crowds, it looked like everyone was being turned out of the city buildings, presumably so they could be inspected for damage. A huge area of tables and chairs was being set up with a temporary tent roof for shade and quite of lot of uninjured people were being directed there. He saw a lifter with servitor droids and crates of supplies arrive and the droids began setting up their own temporary shack. Another lifter with portable freshers and more droids established a station at a far corner of the field.

No one noticed him, sitting on the ground next to Obi-Wan's cot, except for the wanderers who briefly glanced at him with hope that vanished immediately as soon as he failed to be the person they were looking for. Qui-Gon supposed that he was in his proper place; out of the way with his sole task being to watch over one injured boy out of the many.

In the distance, Qui-Gon finally recognized Otnox's familiar purple suit. He was uninjured and now confronted, Macmas, the head negotiator for the planetary government. Macmas was a thin humanoid with short, spikey, dark brown hair, and the elongated ears and large eyes typical of the large, northern islands of the planet. He was also very tall and hard to miss in a crowd. Two equally tall aides, who had silently attended the government negotiator in the villa, flanked him now. They were too far away for their words to carry over the noise of speeders, people, droids and misery, but it was clearly as heated as any of the discussions carried out over the conference table.

With great regret, Qui-Gon rose. He did not wish to leave Obi-Wan alone, but the area was safe, and his duty was still to the mission, as fractured and shattered as it was.

** End Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**Flood of Insight**

by ardavenport

** part 3**

Qui-Gon exited the area of cots and injury and crossed the pale, gray duracrete, his dark brown Jedi robe billowing behind him in the breeze that had picked up in the open area. As he approached, another conferee joined them, Uhboe, the stout deputy prefect of the Southern Continent. The discussion was not going well.

They stood together in a clump, at the end of the row of sky-skimmers. The three primary negotiators and most of their assorted seconds, deputies and aides seemed to have reconvened into an informal conference that looked as if it would be every bit at poisonous as the official talks.

Uhboe announced, in her loud, commanding voice, that the negotiations were ended after this disaster. Her long, metallic pink tunic shimmered in the sunlight as she took a challenging pose, her hands on her hips. No one in the Republic, she declared, could possibly doubt the planetary government's total incompetence and the Southern Continent's petition for separate representation in Galactic Senate now had to be approved.

Otnox's thin, reptilian tail switched with annoyance under the back hem of his suit jacket. Qui-Gon didn't even need the Force to read Otnox's thin lipped offense at the statement. Paradoxically, Qui-Gon sensed that the Senate negotiator agreed with Uhboe's statement, but he hated being told what he should think so much that he was considering rejecting it. Fortunately, Otnox's better nature took over and he avoided getting into the fight altogether. Instead, he suggested that they find a private place to continue their negotiations instead of doing it in the open air. Both Macmas and Uhboe agreed to this, but then they stood where they were, arguing about where they should go since all the buildings were evacuated.

Qui-Gon folded his arms before him, tucking them into the opposite sleeves of his robe. He was supposed to be the trusted, neutral observer, to speak only when spoken to first, in times of impasse when a fresh and impartial viewpoint was needed. He felt quite certain that if they now asked him where they should go, he would have a great deal of trouble giving them a civil answer.

Obi-Wan was supposed to have been a second and silent observer, but at ten standard years (almost eleven, Obi-Wan had later reminded his Master), the negotiators had decreed Obi-Wan to be too young to have anything to do with the conference, not even as an observer. This pronouncement had come in spite of the fact that they had been told well in advance who the Jedi Order was sending and they had approved the choice.

So, Obi-Wan had been sent away, unhappy and offended, down into the gardens below with his Master's admonishment that his lesson from this bad start was that a true diplomat never sank to the lowest level of the group in a negotiation. Obi-Wan's only consolation was that the Jedi Council had also been displeased when his Master had reported the last minute change to them, before the first day's negotiations began.

After many hours of arguing, the conferees had not once asked for Qui-Gon's opinion; they had hardly ever looked at him. Qui-Gon wondered if the real reason why a Jedi observer had been requested for these negotiations was in case he was needed to stop the conferees from killing each other. They had certainly been angry enough back in the villa for Qui-Gon to clearly discern the pictures of the violence that they wished on those on the other side of the table.

Qui-Gon felt a warning in the Force.

His first thought was that an aftershock of the first quake was imminent, but the warning wasn't so broad or deep. He turned around, just before the man behind him cried out.

"You!!"

A male with frazzled, dark green hair pointed at Macmas and his aides. He wore the blue tunic and green vest of the villa staff. A crowd of people that he had apparently been leading stood behind him, some puzzled, some interested, others dispirited and hurt.

"You did this! Where was the warning! A blind hurdu-pusher could see a ground quake coming! We could have cleared the valley, we could..." his voice broke.

Qui-Gon saw the danger. Some of the people behind him were focusing increasingly critical looks at the visibly defensive Macmas. Qui-Gon did not confront the man directly, he strode up beside him, his hand touching the shorter man's shoulder.

"Friend, I am sure that this can be settled amiably," Qui-Gon smoothly cut off a resumption of his outburst. "But in the meantime, these people are in desperate need of your guidance." The man's green eyes stared up at the Jedi, his mind now fogged by the Force's strong influence on him. Qui-Gon smiled and gently turned him back to people waiting behind him. He bent forward, speaking into the man's ear. "They need your help."

"Oh, yes, of course," he agreed, his words coming out in a confused mumble.

"They need food and water, and medical attention," Qui-Gon softly told him. The man nodded, refocusing his attention. The attention of the others become confused as well. Some stared fixedly at Qui-Gon, others had caught the words 'medical attention' and nodded. None of them looked at Macmas anymore. Qui-Gon sent the man off to shepherd his group of evacuees off across the field. None of them looked back.

Exhaling, Qui-Gon went back to the knot of negotiators. Even thinner-lipped than usual, his reptilian face constricted with worry, Otnox looked up the Jedi.

"We have to get these people out of here before that happens again and there's a riot." Qui-Gon couldn't disagree. The danger was still there.

"That could be a problem," he answered. Otnox's tail switched.

"Boffox." A young woman in a crisp blue suit and of the same species as Otnox skipped forward. "Get over to that command center and tell that overblown administrator what almost happened and get us a transport out of here. Now."

"But they're still not taking our coms–"

"That's why I'm telling you to go there yourself. And _run_." Otnox pushed his face forwarrd and she hopped back. Then she turned and quickly flitted across the field.

Qui-Gon's eyes flicked toward Uhboe who narrowed his own eyes back at the Jedi.

"What about the deputy prefect? Can he expedite transport for us?" he asked the Senate representative.

Otnox grinned, showing his sharp, pointy teeth. "Emergency protocols on this world don't respect rank. They told us to stay here until they could get something, but that pompous administrator likes her power too well. I don't think they were planning on hurrying it up for us. That message might get them to think about it a little harder."

Qui-Gon nodded and refrained from saying anything about the irony of Otnox complaining about someone else being pompous. The reptilian negotiator's small eyes darted to either side of Qui-Gon and his expression changed to genuine concern.

"Where's that Padawan of yours? He was down in the valley chasing tourists when that quake broke the dam." Otnox had been nice to Obi-Wan on the trip to this world from Coruscant, and had complimented him on his emerging knowledge of diplomacy. After the initial introductions and reception, the whole group had been transported to the villa for the real negotiations, where Obi-Wan had been rejected

"He is well, but he was injured in the water." Qui-Gon turned and pointed to where the droids were stationed, and the still growing rows of cots.

Otnox nodded. "You'd better get him. If they really come up with a transport, you don't want to leave him behind." Qui-Gon eyed the conferees. "I'll sit on those binary-brains if I have to, to keep them from attracting attention to themselves until you get back," Otnox assured him. Grateful, Qui-Gon nodded and turned to go.

OOOOOEEEEEEEEE!!!!

The alarm siren blared. Immediately afterwards a voice announced, "Aftershock imminent! Please take precautions!"

For a moment everyone froze, as if the announcement wasn't real or really meant for them. Qui-Gon grabbed Otnox and dove for the ground. They waited together, flat on the duracrete. People around them lowered themselves to the ground. In the distance they heard exclamations of dismay as people huddled on the ground and pulled others down as well. Apparently, someone, somewhere, had gotten the planetary seismic monitors working.

The field went silent.

Nothing happened.

OOOOOOOOOOEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! OOOOOOOEEEEEEE!!!!

Even with the warning siren, Qui-Gon didn't sense the after-quake until it happened. They felt the ground tremble under them; the rumbling grew. People cried out. At the height of the aftershock the ground undulated, the durcrete groaning with it's own grinding voice, like rock on sandy rock. Then the motion faded; the ground settled; the rumbling echoed into silence. Someone among the huddle of negotiators and aides was sobbing.

Qui-Gon carefully rose. He saw a few of the conferees near him do the same. Otnox grumbled as he brushed a minuscule amount of dust and coarse sand from his purple suit. Noise returned to the landing field, machines, transports, voices in the distance.

Not much damage had been done by the aftershock. The skyline of the villa and the other city buildings remained the same. A few temporary structures that had been erected on the landing field had been knocked over. The after shock had been nowhere near as violent as the original ground quake, but coupled with the terrifying memory of the flood, it had left a nimbus of fear in the minds of the evacuees on the field.

Qui-Gon made sure that the conferees were alright, some of them were trading nasty looks, but they were all silent. He nodded toward Otnox and quickly headed for the assembly area for the injured.

Halfway there, he felt a disturbance. Feeling something in the Force, an imperative to hurry forward, he quickened his pace. He recognized Bek's pale, stripes of hair and saw her with a couple of large, heavyset beings diving down into the cots, many of which had been overturned with injured people huddled next to them. Something white darted amidst the jumbles of people and cots and crates of supplies. Qui-Gon's sensed panic.

Qui-Gon saw Obi-Wan's head pop up, his breathing mask still on, among a tumble of cots. He ducked back when a huge, dark creature grabbed for him and missed. Qui-Gon started to run.

Bek pointed and cried out. She and another woman dove for Obi-Wan, but tripped over each other and people on the ground instead. Obi-Wan was just a flicker of white motion below knee level among the people trying to right the cots and crates and things. Qui-Gon sensed confusion and fear that was completely atypical of him.

There were four large beings that seemed to be working together to catch Obi-Wan. Bek, a dark-hued Gamorrat, the other woman who had short, white hair and arms heavily tattooed in red, and a male humanoid with brown and tan striped skin. They were all young, muscular and wore similar sleeveless body suits with metal belts or arm bands.

The tattooed woman squealed and dove to the ground, catching Obi-Wan's legs just as he cleared the cots on the outer perimeter of the area's markers, but he squirmed and slithered out of her grasp. He jumped to his feet and pelted across the duracrete, going in Qui-Gon's general direction.

Just before they would have collided, Qui-Gon dropped to one knee and caught his fleeing Padawan. Obi-Wan at first wriggled and squirmed trying to get away–he'd been running blindly–before he recognized Qui-Gon. The Jedi smiled back at the brief second of surprised recognition in the boy's eyes before Obi-Wan threw his arms around his neck and hugged his Master tightly. Qui-Gon hugged him back.

He then gently pulled Obi-Wan away so he could look at him. Obi-Wan tried to take the breath mask off but Qui-Gon stopped him. He checked the canister, still clipped to Obi-Wan's belt. It looked like it was operating well (Obi-Wan shook his head when Qui-Gon asked if he had any trouble breathing) and the indicator light showed only about half of it's time had expired.

Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hands, his palms were scraped and he had a bruise on his cheek. Qui-Gon laid one large hand on the side of his head; his blue-gray eyes were clear and now looked embarrassed by his recent panic. Apparently the after shock has spilled him out of his cot. Alone and disoriented, he had headed in the general direction of his Master.

Bek and her burly friends approached them on the pale, flat duracrete field. Bek leaned over to the Gamorrat and whispered in his pointed ear. His flat nose snuffled as Qui-Gon caught only the words, "...the Jedi..." The red-tattooed woman and the striped man nodded.

Qui-Gon lowered his hand to Obi-Wan's shoulders and turned him to his pursuers behind him.

"This woman, Bek," he pointed to her, "told me that you gave her your aqua-breather, so that she could save her friends." Obi-Wan turned back to him, his eyes large with uncertainty. "That was a very brave and noble thing that you did. You thought of others in need, before yourself, Obi-Wan. And I'm very proud of you," Qui-Gon assured him. Obi-Wan lowered his eyes in apparent relief and Qui-Gon squeezed his narrow shoulders.

Obi-Wan turned and looked up when the shadow of the Gamoorat fell on him. The large, fierce-looking being towered over the boy and Qui-Gon, kneeling next to him.

"Bek gets me and Thuus and Buke and Tahmed and Uzumta out of the water, says you gave her the air breather so she could do it," the Gamoorat rumbled through yellowed fangs. An enormous dark brown hand came down and lightly patted Obi-Wan on the head. Qui-Gon was pleased to see that Obi-Wan did not flinch from it; lately Obi-Wan had become more aggressive in rejecting any gesture that he thought patronizing. He'd been doubly hurt when the negotiators had rejected him earlier strictly because of his age.

One fat, clawed finger curled and came up under Obi-Wan's chin. Obi-Wan silently looked up, the breath mask still covering his face. "It's as good as if you come yourself for us." The Gamoorat nodded. "We got big thanks for you." Behind him, Bek and the Gamoorat's other two friends agreed.

Qui-Gon stood, his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders. "We are happy to serve," he answered for both of them. The Gamoorat grinned back toothily.

"You get bigger, like your Mas,' he told Obi-Wan before turning back to his friends. Qui-Gon bowed his head to them as they left.

** End Part 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Flood of Insight**

by ardavenport

** part 4**

Qui-Gon looked down at his apprentice and turned him back to the end of the field where the negotiators were still gathered. He walked slowly; Obi-Wan had no trouble keeping up at first, but by the time they arrived, Obi-Wan's energy seemed spent. He sank down next to his Master when he sat down near Otnox. Qui-Gon, now feeling his own, minor bruises from the ground quake, used the bottom of his own robe as an improvised cushion on the hard duracrete and helped Obi-Wan do the same. Then he wrapped his robe and his arm around his Padawan. Very soon, Obi-Wan was dozing next to him.

Either Otnox or recent events had convinced the negotiators to sit and wait for their transport with only subdued mutterings or insults among them. Their aides brought them refreshments, and then chairs and portable tables and sun shades. Qui-Gon put the hood of his robe up to shade himself and periodically checked the indicator on the canister still attached to Obi-Wan's belt. When the indicator light on it went completely green, Qui-Gon carefully removed the mask from Obi-Wan's face and put the apparatus aside. Obi-Wan stirred sleepily, but stayed under the shelter of his robe. Qui-Gon laid his hand on the dark ginger hair nestled next to him; he sensed only healing in the wake of the boy's near-drowning.

Otnox belatedly offered to have his aide fetch Qui-Gon something. He declined anything for himself, but asked for a muja juice for Obi-Wan. When it came, Qui-Gon took the pack and gently nudged Obi-Wan awake.

"You should drink something," he said. Obi-Wan nodded, took the juice pack and began sucking on the drinking tab, but he stayed huddled next to Qui-Gon, who again felt the strange disorientation of his own inactivity in the midst of crisis. More speeders and skimmers landed, depositing newcomers to the areas reserved for the injured and the shaded areas where the people already there lined up to scan the new faces. Qui-Gon sat slightly apart from the waiting negotiators, between them and the rest of the activity on the field, like a sentinel. No one tried to approach them again.

By the time Obi-Wan had finished the juice, he was sitting up, showing some of his usual energy and curiosity as he looked about the field. He silently surveyed the area around them, his expression serious. He scowled back at the negotiators with their chairs, drinks and sun shades, but he said nothing.

The rescue and emergency operations on the rest of the landing field had gained considerably more organization. Someone yelled, "Oooooohhh!!!" loud enough for them to hear even from some distance away. Two people ran towards each other before the crashed into a desperate embrace. Obi-Wan bowed his head.

Qui-Gon sensed the sadness in the boy, and some confusion. This was supposed to have been a short, simple mission. Obi-Wan had been trained to be a Jedi, to handle crises, but this was his first one, at least, the first with many deaths and injuries.

Qui-Gon laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan lifted his head and looked up at him.

"Are you feeling better?"

Obi-Wan silently nodded.

"You are disturbed, my young Padawan," Qui-Gon stated.

Obi-Wan lowered his gaze guiltily.

"I didn't sense the second ground quake, Master." Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows.

"Such insights are rare and unpredictable, even among Jedi. If it were otherwise, there would be very much more demand for us," Qui-Gon told him. "You did very well to anticipate the first quake, and you saved many people. You listened to the Force and acted as a Jedi."

A small, shy smile curled the corners of his mouth in response to the praise. His actions had been exemplary; Obi-Wan, being a younger Padawan, was forbidden to draw his weapon without Qui-Gon's order. Yet, he had recognized the emergency and acted. Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a great Jedi someday.

Obi-Wan looked out at the people on the landing field; his pleasure vanished at the sight of the emergency structures and the now large area of wounded. Qui-Gon did not prompt him to speak again; He was still absorbing the impact of the tragedy. There would be time to talk about it later.

Qui-Gon laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder; his arm lay across his back. After a few moments Obi-Wan seemed to shrink a bit, and then he edged closer and leaned against Qui-Gon, who silently acknowledged this need for comfort. He briefly rubbed Obi-Wan's back and then pulled the edge of his robe up, shading his Padawan again.

Qui-Gon looked down at the lighter brown head of hair amidst the folds of his darker robe; he sensed a twinge of embarrassment from his Padawan, as if he were sacrificing a bit of his strived for maturity with a moment of weakness. At this age, Obi-Wan took every minor mission very seriously, with full knowledge that even the most trivial trip was practice for his adulthood as a Jedi Knight. He always scrupulously followed his Master's lead and observed, what he perceived as, the rules of adult behavior. Qui-Gon knew that he would have to explain later to Obi-Wan that taking, and giving, of compassion were as adult as wielding a lightsaber. But there would be time for that later as well.

It was late-afternoon before the roar and whine of the ships approaching caused everyone to look up. One of them slowly approached their position and everyone got up and backed away. Villa staff, rushed forward with light wands to guide it to a landing. Among them, Amis Bel's bright orange hair stood out among the green vests.

Glancing over his shoulder, Qui-Gon saw other ships landing at other points in the field. A marked, medical ship set down by the area reserved for the wounded. The authorities were clearly removing everyone they could from the area of the quake.

A moment later, Amis Bel announced that they would be evacuated to another city, out of the danger area of any further quakes, where the authorities had arranged for further transport, coms, lodging or whatever they might need. The large security chief looked harried and he sharply cut off one negotiator's aide with the declaration that he didn't know anything else, didn't want to know anything else, and that they could do more good in a more secure location. And far away from him.

Qui-Gon had no questions at all. Until the negotiators made a decision, his mission was in a holding pattern. At the moment, they weren't even talking to each other. Qui-Gon also expected to be replaced by the Jedi Council (if another team was required) once he informed them about Obi-Wan's injury.

Otnox pushed his way forward to the front of the line and Qui-Gon followed with Obi-Wan since they were nominally part of the Senate representative's team. The ship itself was clearly a commandeered tourist craft, meant to show visitors around the lovely scenery. It had a clear, plastisteel hull with a gold filigree exo-skeleton. Inside were rows of comfortable seats with the pilot's controls at the front, engines in back.

They filed up the entry ramp. Otnox and his aides took the first seats available, but Qui-Gon moved to the front to allow others to board. He and Obi-Wan took seats behind the pilot, but as the ship filled up it became increasingly clear that there weren't enough places for everyone, so smaller people were doubling up. When a large, maroon-suited negotiator stood, looking confused, by their seats, Obi-Wan scrambled over to Qui-Gon's seat. The negotiator thanked them and sat down. Qui-Gon thought that this might be the first kind word he'd heard from any of the native conferees.

Obi-Wan sat forward a bit rigidly, squeezed between the armrest and Qui-Gon, who supported his back with his arm; he was a bit big to be sitting in his Master's lap, but the trip and discomfort would be short. When everyone was finally loaded and the ramp up, the pilot engaged the antigravs and started the engines. They were remarkably quiet, confirming to Qui-Gon that this ship was only meant for, at most, orbital trips.

The ground receded below them. Obi-Wan peered down. The clear floor and hull allowed them a perfect view of the landing field below with it's many clustered dots of people and droids. Then the ship slowly turned and the view changed.

_They want them to see_, Qui-Gon realized.

The staff at the villa and the rescuers hadn't just picked this ship because it was available; they had chosen it specifically because of the officials and negotiators aboard.

They slowly passed over a brownish lake of polluted water full of debris and wreckage where there had once been a verdant garden valley. On one, large stone balcony of the villa they could clearly see rows of covered bodies of various sizes and shapes, kept away from the sight of the traumatized survivors. Until they needed to be identified. Qui-Gon doubted that the other evacuation ships would take this flight path to their destination. With the transparent hull of the ship, the destruction was impossible not to see, short of shutting one's eyes.

Qui-Gon wondered how many of the conferees behind him would actually do that.

Obi-Wan looked up at him, but Qui-Gon continued to gaze downward, below his feet at the long stretches of drowned hills and valleys, the broken trees and floating bits of buildings. Qui-Gon sensed that his Padawan did not truly understand everything he felt through the Force, but he was trying very hard. His younger, less experienced senses did not clearly see the discord in the Force that such random destruction brought. It was so easy, on a mission, with things to do and lives to save, to let it pass through the mind. It was harder, with nothing to do but contemplate the chaos of interrupted life, but Qui-Gon felt the day's events receding from him. It would leave it's imprint of pain and loss on him, like the debris and bodies that would be left behind when the flood waters below were drained. He would speak with Obi-Wan about it. Later.

The transport passed the area around the newly formed lake and then sped up, rising into the blue sky and hurrying away.

** END**

(This story was first posted on tf.n: 04-June-2006)

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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